Roundabout
'WONDERFUL church people — wonderful steam people!' The loudspeakers boomed expansive intimacies round the open field as eigh- teen traction engines swung into erratic procession. Perched on the back of a Model T Ford, the 'ear of Woodford Bridge, as Chairman of the 4,11°flal. Traction Engine Club, delivered a 'bust commentary on the afternoon's proceed- Tipping his straw boater forward, the Rev. 'UP Wright—incongruous in a baggy and lightweight suit of salmon pink, orned with a bright red carnation—enveloped e hesitant crowd in fellowship. Iletteath a cloudy Saturday afternoon sky he rsuaded them to repeat the Lord's Prayer. Then introduced the eighteen puffing engines, his nrds momentarily drowned by the wooing of eir whistles.
First, the great showman's engine, the Burrell
ing George VI,' its overhanging canopy istenio8 with electric light bulbs—'She generates r Gwo electricity'—then the crowd gazed nubtfujiy as the loudspeakers enthused about ejittle eight-horsepower Aveling steam tractor. She's only got two speeds—but her top gear's vely!, !Vlore sideshows presented themselves during e afternoon, until the flat council playing-field rruunded by red-brick suburban semi-detached o lises took on the illusion of a village green. iirtea,BY seemed to belong to—as the loudspeakers It—'Our lovely old church of Woodford ridge—You can see the white spire through the s there—that all the proceeds are going to ave., ,1.°11!' said the voice from space, 'here's a one- e.;:dred-Year-old tortoise—the only tortoise to he oilenDied out of the jungle—how much are you fi,Ig to charge to see it, Albert? A penny? ha You, Albert.
'1 know you'll think this is one of my fiddles. At my last parish we raffled a horse and trap, and it turned out to be a clothes horse and a mousetrap.'
From the corner of the field three traction en- gines converged on the central arena. Then, started by a man with a red flag and a top hat —'Usually he's in insurance in the City'—they lunged forward, belching smoke, crashing over oil drums as they did a double length of the field, their drivers begrimed and fighting their steering wheels like sailors in a storm.
There was a flurry of spectators away from the ropes as one engine thundered towards them and flattened a stake.
'I must draw your attention to the notice at the back of the programme,' said the Vicar. 'Traction engine racing can be dangerous.'
From the neighbouring road more spectators watched. 'You're not playing the game,' mur- mured the loudspeakers. 'Pay your half-crowns like the good ones. We're having wonderful fun in here this afternoon.' Two police inspectors watched languidly as children queued for rides in a farm cart—drawn by a horse.
Previous page
